Car Trouble
by whyzkyd
Summary: It is so hard to find a good car when you are Stephanie Plum. This is a Babe fiction that is Morelli friendly.
1. Chapter 1

I pulled up to Vincent Plum's bail bonds office and sighed a little before I walked in the door. Lula was looking out the window at my car, smiling. "A purple Camaro? I think I know the pimp that used to own that car."

"I bought it last night at a used car auction. It was dark, okay? I thought it was a black car" At the time, a black car seemed like a good idea, since all the Rangeman vehicles were black and I occasionally worked for Rangeman now. I should have been suspicious when most of the respectable looking buyers dropped out of the bidding early.

Connie was staring down at her computer screen, but I could see her shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

"I didn't know it was purple until I woke up this morning!" I explained, "I've already called the auction company but they said all sales were final."

I heard a snort, and looked over to catch Lula grinning. "Girl, you'll fit right in down on Stark street now!"

I was ready to change the subject, "Any new skips?" Connie handed me three new files while she wiped tears from her eyes. I looked the files over. There was Adam Pritchett, who had been arrested for punching a Teeny League umpire during his 8-year old son's game, Mandy Lenotti, a hot-check writer, and Mooner. All three had failed to appear for court, and were now on the Plum bail bond's wanted list.

While I looked over the files, I heard Lula make a quick intake of breath and watched Connie lean around me to get a better view of the front door. A few seconds later, a hand curled protectively around my neck and I smelled warm Bvlgari as Ranger leaned in to me. His hand snaked around me to drop body receipts on Connie's desk.

"Babe."

I stepped back and turned to look at Ricardo Carlos Manoso, otherwise known as Ranger. He usually wore black cargo pants tucked into Bates boots and a black t-shirt, but today he was wearing faded blue jeans and a tan light-weight sweater with the sleeves pushed up to expose well sculpted forearms. You could see the outline of every muscle through the thin fabric of the sweater. His dark hair was pulled back into a short pony tail.

He took some files from Connie. Ranger got all the FTAs that were over my head. Of course some people, like Joe Morelli for instance, would argue that they were all over my head. Ranger looked my way and made an almost unperceivable nod toward the door. So I followed him outside.

His dark eyes immediately locked onto mine and I felt a jolt shoot all the way to my toes.

"Tank says you were a no-show this morning."

I was supposed to take my new car by Rangeman first thing this morning to get it out-fitted with GPS, so that I could be tracked for safety reasons. I was officially a part-time employee and received a regular check which helped my expense account, because skip chasing had frequent dry spells. I knew the GPS was good for my health, especially with my track record, but part of me still didn't like it.

I tilted my chin back and tried not to look defiant. He was my boss, after all, among other things.

"I got busy."

"And."

"I don't have a car yet," I lied.

It had been a while since some psycho had tried to kill me. I thought I could probably go without GPS for a little while. I might even be able to buy some time to get a new paint job. Ranger had once said that I provided "entertainment" for him and the crew at Rangeman. It was a memory that still rankles me a bit. Well, not this time, I decided. I wasn't about to drop this purple gift horse into their laps.

He looked around the lot. "So, where's big blue?"

"Dad dropped me off this morning," I looked down at my toes out of guilt. "I'll ride with Lula today," I said as I looked back at him. At least that part was probably true.

Ranger's eyes narrowed. "Stephanie..," he began.

I nervously cut him off, "What's up with the clothes today? Ella get behind on laundry?"

"Today is a travel day. I'm catching a flight in an hour," he said unsmiling. "And I don't have time for games."

"Do I get to know where you're going?" I asked. His face was impassive. "Okay, then can you tell me when to expect you back?"

He grabbed my jacket sleeves and pulled me against his chest. His lips crushed mine in a punishing kiss that forced my mouth open and allowed his tongue to take possession. I had my hands splayed flat against his tight abdomen. Before things got out of control, he pulled back and rested his lips against my forehead.

"You really think you can keep secrets from me?" His mouth was moving against my skin.

"Who, me?" I said in a voice husky from the feelings he had ignited.

He pushed away and gave me the 200 watt smile before turning to walk toward his sleek black Mercedes. "I expect you to check in with Tank _every_ day while I'm gone," he called back over his shoulder.

Then through his open window before driving away, "A purple Camaro?"

Eye roll time.

I turned and walked back to the bonds office. Connie tried to look busy. Lula was not as discreet. "Damn skippy!" she said with eyes bulging. "I wouldn't be able to work for the rest of the day after that!"

Connie looked at me and sighed, "You've gotta be the luckiest girl in the world! It was nice to see that perfect behind in something other than cargo pants."

I ignored them both and picked up my skip files. I flipped through the paperwork then looked up in surprise. "I am the luckiest girl in the world!" I declared. "Mandy Lenotti works at Tasty Pastry."

I looked over at Lula, "Are you up for some doughnuts?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" She asked as she grabbed her purse.


	2. Chapter 2

Inside Tasty Pastry, Lula and I looked over the glass display cases. There were two employees out front and another working in the back, somewhat visible through the open doorway. None of them matched the file photo of Mandy.

When it was my turn in line, I stepped up to the counter and ordered a half dozen Boston Cream doughnuts. "And some of those pink ones with the blue sprinkles," Lula chimed in.

I looked at the woman who handed me the bag, "Is Mandy working today?"

"Already gone," she said as she took my change. "Mandy works the early shift, so she can be home when her kids wake up."

"How early is the early shift?" I asked innocently.

Mandy's co-worker put a hand on her hip and gave me a disgusted look, "I know who you are Stephanie Plum. So why don't you tell me why you're looking for Mandy?"

I gave her my best non-confrontational smile and answered, "Its no big deal, really. She just missed a court date and needs to re-schedule."

"Uh-huh," the lady responded, not entirely convinced. "She works here from three to seven, then goes home to get her kids ready for school. After that she cleans houses all day and gets home in time to meet the school bus. She does a great job raising three children without any help from her bum of an ex-husband. It would make me real mad if I knew you were going to cause her any trouble."

Lula had already eaten three doughnuts from the bag. She wiped blue sprinkles off her lips, "Nothin' to worry 'bout then. No way Stephanie is going to make the doughnut lady mad."

I took the bag from her and ate a Boston Cream on the way out the door. Probably Lula is right. Anyone who makes doughnuts like these deserves to be happy.

"Where to now?" Lula asked as we got into her car.

"Mandy's place," I said calling off the address from the file. "Then I've got to find someplace to get my car repainted quick _and_ cheap."

"What about DiMato's Autos?" Lula asked. "I saw their commercial on T.V. last night. They got a $295 paint special."

Well the price was right, but I was unsure. DiMato's was a bodyshop chain with several stores across Trenton. It was well known, however, that they were under mob ownership.

"Yep, $295 and they promise paint it in one day," Lula continued.

The Italian half of my brain decided it would be good to throw some business toward 'the family'. "That's my kind of paint job," I said. "Change of plans. Car first, then we go by Mandy's place."

"What about lunch? Its 10:45 now. I might feel faint if we go too long without food."

"Lula, we just had doughnuts!"

"That was breakfast. I didn't have breakfast except for those three little doughnuts."

I handed her the bag with the remaining Boston Creams. "We can go eat after I drop my Camaro off." I wanted to get it re-done as soon as possible before any of the Rangeman guys laid eyes on the car.

I fumbled around in my handbag. "First things first. I have to check in…Ranger's orders" I said with a decent eye roll. I punched Tank's number into my cell phone.

"You calling Tank?" Lula asked.

I nodded as I listened to the first ring.

"Hunh," Lula said "Don't tell Tank you're with me."

Before I could ask what that was about, Tank answered, "Talk."

"Just checking in. Got anything for me?"

"GPS for your new car. Where is it?" He sounded tense.

I was impressed. Ranger didn't tell him about the Camaro. If he had, a tracking device would have already been installed and Tank would have been teasing instead of stressed.

"I'm having work done on it. I'll get it to you when I can."

"Are you with Lula? Ranger said you would be"

I looked over at Lula. She shook her head and made a neck slashing motion.

"Uh, no I'm not."

I took a second to think. Ranger would have ordered his men to keep an eye on me. He was scary enough that they took this job way too seriously. Tank was obviously worried because no one knew where I was for sure. I needed a decoy. At this time of day the Buick should be parked in Mom and Dad's driveway in the Burg.

"Uh, I'm at my parent's house. I'll be driving Big Blue," I said tentatively. I checked my nose just to be sure it wasn't growing.

"Ok, so you're with Big Blue at your parent's house?"

His voice sounded calmer, so I relaxed too. "Yep, no need to worry about me. I'll be here for a while. I'm helping my Dad clean out the car."

"Ya'll cleaning that big boat right now," he said. His voice was strange. Almost overly friendly. Definitely not the Tank I was used to.

"Yeah," I said, starting to feel nervous.

"Really?" Tank barked impatiently, "because my screen says it is at Pino's"

I snapped the phone shut and stared at Lula. "One day a month, my mom buys pizza instead of cooking. Of course that day would _have_ to be today!"

My cell phone rang, so I turned it off. I'll have to make it up to Tank later. "They'll send the posse out to look for me now." I said frantically. "Get to the office quick, and you can trade cars with Connie."

"Why would I need to trade cars with Connie?" Lula asked.

"Come on Lula. I ride with you a lot. You sometimes date Tank. You think your car is clean?"

"Now I'm really mad!" She said as she gunned the engine.

"So, about you and Tank….?" I pried.


	3. Chapter 3

Before Lula could tell me about Tank, we screeched into the parking lot of the Bond office on two wheels. I jumped out before the car stopped rolling and ran to the Camaro. "Get Connie's keys and I'll meet you around back," I yelled.

Connie always parked in the small lot behind the office. She was responsible for opening and closing the business and could park close to the door if needed. I parked behind her car just as Lula came running out the back door. "A black SUV just pulled into the front lot! Connie's going to try to stall them!" She reported.

"Let's get moving!" I hissed through my open window.

I drove away from the office. Lula was right behind me in Connie's car. I saw another black SUV about three blocks away headed in our direction. I wasn't positive that it was a Rangeman vehicle, but I couldn't chance letting him pass us and possibly spotting one of us behind the wheel. I made the first right possible with Lula glued to my bumper. The black SUV continued down the road. Whew! That was close.

I turned my phone back on. Hmm, three new messages. Ignoring them for now, I dialed Lula's number. "Probably it's best if we don't go to DiMato's Autos in the Burg. I feel the need to get away. Far, far, away. How about we head to the one on McKee Expressway. You know, at the edge of town going toward Philly."

"I'll go, but this is going to be painful!"

"Painful? How so? Connie's seats uncomfortable?"

"No Dolby! How am I going to listen to my music without Dolby? And all Connie's CDs are junk…Perry Como, Frank Sinatra, some opera crap! Why you Italians like this shit anyway?"

I hung up and tried to ignore the message light on my cell. I decided to distract myself with happy thoughts about my new Camaro. The car rides well, I mused. The interior was clean and I could cover the purple seats with great new seat covers. So what if the carpet and dashboard were the same dark purple as the exterior? Too expensive to replace, sure, but it still looks black at night, right?

My eyes wandered back to the phone. Come on Stephanie! Get a grip on yourself! I turned on some music and tapped the steering wheel in time to the beat. I looked at my cell phone again. My curiosity grew stronger with each passing second. It welled up inside me like a volcano. The blame lay squarely with my Gypsy - Hungarian ancestors. I was born with a mutated self-control gene. It came straight from Grandma Mazur, skipped over my mother, and landed on me full force.

I hit the message button.

Message 1 ...Tank of course, "Call me!" I stuck my tongue out at the phone.

Message 2 was from Joe Morelli, "Calling to see how it went at the auction. Sorry I couldn't go with you, Cupcake."

I had heard about the auction from Eddie Gazarra. A lot of the cars sold were police impounds. Joe was going to go with me, but then was called in to work when a body floated up in the Delaware River.

Message 3: "Babe!" …Yikes!

At the body shop I parked in front of an open bay. A guy wearing coveralls and carrying a clip board came walking out of the office. He was about 6'2, suave, and definitely attractive. His nametag read Nick Palesano. "Can I help you?" he asked, smiling _with dimples_.

"I want this repainted black," I said motioning toward my car.

"Good choice. Why don't we go inside the office to discuss options."

"No need," I replied. "I'm interested in the $295 special and also the same day service."

Not easily discouraged, Nick whistled through his teeth. "That cheap paint job is for old clunkers. This is a fine automobile. You need our high grade enamel. It blocks out pollutants and keeps its finish longer with no fading."

The old bait and switch? Not so fast, pretty boy. I was onto him. Besides with my track record, I could roll the dice. I wasn't sure this paint job was going to live long enough to fade. I put on my most determined look. "Really not necessary. I just want a color change at $295."

He looked me over and decided I was a lost cause. "Okay, okay, you got it."

I filled out the paperwork and paid up front with plastic. Nick managed to squeeze $100 more out of me for the same day service. This was evidently in the fine print at the bottom of the television screen during the commercial. The scrolling marquee type with letters so small, they'd only be recognizable through the Hubble telescope.

I jumped in next to Lula. "Whew, what a relief! Thanks for being my wingman!"

"Speaking of wings," Lula licked her lips, "We passed a Cluck-In-The-Bucket a few exits back."

We sat in a booth with a bucket between us. Lula paused with a piece of chicken in each hand, and looked at me with her eyebrows raised questioningly, "Did he ask about me?"

"Who?"

"Tank. When you talked to him on the phone before."

"He asked if you were with me. What's going on between you two anyway?"

"We had a fight."

"About?"

"He wouldn't tell me where the batcave is and now he is really pissed off," she said with a pout.

"Lula, I don't know where the batcave is!"

This wasn't a lie. I knew where Ranger's apartment at the Rangeman office was, but he had similar offices / apartments in several different cities. He said that they didn't really keep the office locations a secret, but that I'd have to work hard to find the batcave.

"I don't think he'll ever go out with me again!" Her voice quivered.

"Don't worry Lula," I reassured her, "Tank will get over it."

"I don't think so. Things got kinda outta hand and I _may_ have told him that I'd bust a cap in his ass," Lula said guiltily.

I didn't know what to say to that.

Back at the Bond office, I handed a half – empty bucket to Connie to thank her for letting us use her car. "Where's the rest of the chicken?" She asked as she peeked into the container.

"I bought two buckets and Lula and I polished off one of them before we left the restaurant. On the way back, Lula felt faint from 'all the excitement of the morning' and needed to build up her energy." I explained.

"Got that right!" Lula pouted. "I'm wore out. I'm gonna to sleep good tonight.

"I heard all about this morning," came a voice from the back room. My cousin, Vinnie, poked his head out of the office. He flashed his greasy ear to ear smile. "Somebody in this room may be the target of a Rangeman assassination. Wonder who it could be?"

I felt a flash of something fly through me. Fear? Anxiety? Anger? "Why don't you go back to your duck, or goat, or whatever farm animal you have back there with you," I yelled at him.

"And why don't you go catch some bad guys?" he sniped back before closing his door.


	4. Chapter 4

As we drove down the road in Lula's red Firebird, I frequently checked the mirrors looking for black vehicles. There were none. Anywhere. It was though there had been a recall of black cars. Okay, so I did see one black VW bug, but there's no way Tank or any of the other Stegosauruses were fitting into that.

We entered a neighborhood of ranch homes on the outskirts of the Burg. The houses were small with small yards. They were built in the 50's to satisfy the desires of middle class homeowners who wanted a little space between themselves and the people next door. A few of the homes were kept in great shape with well manicured lawns. Some were in a sad state of disrepair. Most fell somewhere between these two categories.

We spotted Mandy's house number and found that her house was near the bottom of the list in upkeep. The lawn was overgrown with weeds. Paint peeled and a shutter hung out of place. One window had cardboard taped over a broken pane. The driveway was cracked and oil stained.

"Damn," Lula said, "guess doughnuts don't pay much."

We got out and walked to the door. I knocked and waited, then knocked again. Silence. Lula peeked into the window beside the small door stoop.

"Looks like nobody's home," Lula said.

I walked around back. There were some well-used children's toys on the small cracked patio. Peering through the windows, I noticed that the furnishings were sparse and worn. It had the normal clutter that you'd expect from a household of kids, but was otherwise clean.

"She must be at her house cleaning job," I reported back to Lula. "This one is going to be tough anyway, what with the kids and all." I hate catching FTAs in front of their children. Everytime a kid cries, I start wondering if the Button Factory is hiring.

"What about the doughnuts? I don't feel right busting the doughnut lady over a few hot checks." Lula put it in perspective.

Ignoring Lula, I continued "I plan on catching her when the kids aren't around. Maybe the best time will be at Tasty Pastry tomorrow morning."

"Now that's my kinda job," Lula said. "What time you going?"

"About 6:30. I plan on going after my run with…..the guys at Rangeman." I was about to say Tank, but I'd caught myself in time.

"Hunh," Lula said looking at me strangely. "That's okay… 6:30 in the morning don't allow me enough time to get my beauty sleep. I might get all wrinkled up if I don't get my beauty sleep."

We walked back to the car and sat idling in front of Mandy's house. We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments. After a while, Lula said, "I don't feel so good. Maybe there was something wrong with that chicken I ate."

Like the amount maybe? She didn't look sick I thought to myself, probably just heartburn of the Tank variety. Out loud I added "If you're not feeling well, I can borrow Big Blue and finish work on these skips alone." Lula nodded looking out the window so I couldn't see her face. I had never seen her sad like this before.

I grabbed my phone dreading what I was about to do.

Dad picked up on the 4th ring.

"Hi Dad, where's Mom?"

"She and your Grandmother walked down the street to see Aida Pendola's new grandbaby."

Oh, boy. I'll never hear the end of how the Pendola's perfect daughter is being the perfect Burg wife and popping out perfect Burg babies left and right. I got a huge spine shudder just thinking about it.

"I need a favor," I said bracing myself for what would come next, "I need to borrow the Buick again."

"I thought you bought a Camaro last night?"

I had called Dad from the auction, painfully listened to him advise against the Camaro, and cringing when he suggested I get a Buick instead. It was the whole reason I hadn't taken him with me in the first place.

"I did," I said trying not to sound pitiful.

"Well, what's wrong with it?"

"Just needed a little work. I get it back tonight." I muttered as my left eye began twitching violently.

"Well, I hate to say I told you so,"

And here it comes….

"But, you shoulda bought a Buick."

I sighed.

"Sorry kiddo, but you're outta luck," he said.

"What?!"

"Yep, your sister Valerie came to pick it up because Albert's Toyota is in the shop. Nobody ever listens to Ol' Dad, but everyone comes back begging for Big Blue in the end.

I cut him off, "Thanks anyway…Bye Dad."

I looked at Lula. "No Buick."

She shrugged. "Come to think of it, I feel like catching some sonabitches. Maybe I'd feel better if I got to shoot somebody."

I quickly put Mooner's file away. I liked Mooner too much to unleash Lula's pent-up anger on him. Besides, I could handle Mooner alone. I looked over Pritchett's file. "We need to do some work on Pritchett."

"What'd he do?" Lula asked.

"Punched an umpire at his kid's ballgame."

"What's up with these crazy-assed parents these days?" Lula preached, sounding more like herself. "You see it all over the news…Dads jumping on a football player for tackling his son too hard. Moms trying to kill a kid for taking her daughter's place on the cheerleading squad! Its all craziness! Damn 80's Yuppies are outta control!"

I had to agree. My generation was not doing a great job where kids and competitions were concerned.

"Let's see," I continued, "His file says that he's divorced. And he has to complete anger management before he can get custody visits with his son."

"He may need pain management after I'm through with him!"

Boy, I hope Pritchett cooperates. This could get ugly.

We pulled up to the apartment complex listed on file. I put my pepper spray and cuffs in the waistband of my jeans.

"No gun?" Lula asked. "That's okay I got us covered." She pulled an ominous looking pistol out of her handbag and checked it for bullets. "I got a full Mag in this here Glock 40!" She said proudly as she magically fastened her holster onto her leopard skin spandex pants.

Pritchett lived on the third floor with no elevator. Lula was huffing when we reached the top of the stairs. I knocked on the door and we stepped to either side so we couldn't be seen through the peephole. There were rustling sounds inside, but the door didn't open, so I knocked again.

"Who's there?!" A man growled.

"Mr. Pritchett?" I asked in my sweetest little girl voice.

"Yeah!" he said, softer this time.

"I need to talk to you."

The trick worked because he unhooked the chain and opened the door wide, looking down for the little girl he thought was there.

His file said he was only 30 years old, but he hadn't aged well. He looked closer to 50. He was my height, about 5'7, his head was shaved bald; he had a beer gut and a mean face pock-marked with old acne scars.

I stepped forward.

"Whattaya want? You selling something?"

Lula took her cue and jumped out from hiding with her gun drawn. "Bond enforcement, asshole," she yelled "we'd like to sell you a new court date!"

Before he could close the door, I stuck my foot over the threshold. Lula followed my lead and together, shoulder to shoulder, we forced our way inside. Pritchett's whole head turned beet red and he started kicking things around his living room and bashing holes in the wall with his fist. I could see that this wasn't the first time he'd taken his rage out on his apartment.

"This is all my ex-wife's fault. The bitch!"

He looked like his head could explode any minute. I needed him to stand still so I could cuff him.

"Hey, calm down! Remember what they teach you at Anger Management class. Control your breathing!" I shouted at him.

Pritchett started taking slow, deep breaths. Lula had her gun trained on him the whole time. Now she looked over at me with eyebrows raised. "You been to Anger Management?"

"After I caught Dickie fornicating on my dining room table."

"He really hurt your feelings, huh?"

"Hell yeah, ...I ate CAKE on that table! A man shouldn't go around soiling a woman's table!"

While Lula and I were talking, Pritchett managed to get himself under control. His head was a normal color again. I explained to him that he needed to go with us to get his court date re-scheduled. In a carefully controlled voice, he responded, "Sure, no problem. Just let me go get my shoes."

We looked down at his feet. Sure enough, he was barefoot. We followed him back to his bedroom just in case he tried to escape out a window. He sat down on his bed, reached underneath it and pulled out a shoe with a sock balled up in it. He put the sock on, then the shoe and smiled at us. "You know, I'm relieved to get his over with. I'm going to really work at this Anger Management stuff and try real hard to get partial custody of my son again. I really, really miss him."

I smiled back at him encouragingly, "That's a great attitude!"

Lula chimed in, "That's good. A boy needs his Daddy." She dropped her Glock down to her side.

Pritchett reached down for his other shoe and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun instead. He pumped it in one swift motion and trained it on us. His head was turning red again. "Thrown the gun over here!"

"Damn!" Lula said, "This here's my favorite gun!" She tossed it to him.

He took the gun and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans. Then he turned to me. "Cuffs and pepper spray over here now!"

I tossed him the cuffs and put the pepper spray can on the floor and rolled it over to him, catching Lula's eye as I did. She nodded slightly and just as Pritchett leaned over to grab the spray, Lula caught him in the face with a sharp kick.

The shotgun blasted a hole in the floor, shooting carpet fragments and wood chips around the room. Pritchett screamed in pain as his nose erupted in a torrent of blood that poured down onto his shirt. He had managed to grab the pepper spray and hang on to it during the melee. Now, he quickly shooked the can and sprayed it back and forth directly on Lula and I.

My face immediately felt like it was on fire. I fell writhing to the floor, unable to catch my breath. My eyes teared up and my nose started running. I was disoriented. Pritchett was screaming obscenities. Someone was coughing and moaning. It may have been me. The next thing I knew, I was handcuffed to someone else. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus. It was Lula's hand and she was gagging on the floor next to me. She crouched on all fours and began vomiting. I stretched as far away from her as possible.

Pritchett ran out of the room screaming, "You're going to pay! I'm going to make you pay for this!"

I waited until Lula was done and then dragged her up and toward the kitchen. I used the sink sprayer to spray both of our faces. By the time my eyes stopped burning, we were soaked. I looked around and saw that Pritchett was long gone.

Lula yelled "He took my Glock! That sorry piece of shit has my gun!"

Just then, the front door was kicked in and Carl Costanza and Big Dog ran through with guns drawn. They took one look at us and stopped short. Carl walked over to us as Big Dog checked the rest of the apartment.

"What's up, Stephanie?" he chuckled as he holstered his gun.

"We were here to catch Adam Pritchett. He's FTA." I wiped at the water dripping off my nose.

"So where is he?"

I put my free hand on my hip and gave him my best 'go to hell' look. Big Dog finished his check and joined in the fun. Looking down at our wrists he said, "Let me guess, your cuffs?"

Costanza pulled out a handcuff key and unlocked the cuffs. The front door opened again and in walked Joe Morelli.


	5. Chapter 5

Joe Morelli looked great in faded blue jeans, boots, and a black t-shirt. A denim jacket provided cover for the gun holster and cuffs that I knew he carried. He took one look at Lula and I, dripping wet, eyes swollen, and shook his head. His mouth was set in a grim line.

"What happened here?!" he demanded.

"My FTA got away," I responded.

"We got a sawed-off left on the bed," Big Dog nodded toward the bedroom, "looks like someone blew a hole in the floor with it."

Carl and Joe went into the bedroom to take a look. They came out grimacing. "Someone vomited a bucket load back there!" A Cluck-in-a-Bucket load to be exact.

"It was bad chicken." Lula piped up. "I didn't feel well before we got here and then that bumpy-faced shit pepper-sprayed us!"

"The pepper spray can is empty on the floor, so I take it that the suspect is unarmed?" Joe asked.

Everyone looked at me. I looked at Lula. "No, he has a Glock with him." I said. I would feel real bad if someone got hurt because they didn't know Pritchett was carrying.

Joe gave me a knowing look. Probably he guessed how the gun got into the apartment. Carl took our official statements of what happened, and Lula left most of the talking up to me. I played dumb about the Glock. Best to let them think it was Pritchett's than to let them know Lula was carrying without a license.

As soon as we were done, Lula took off. Cops make her nervous. "I guess you need a ride home?" Joe asked, smiling. He held my elbow and guided me down the stairs and helped me into his car.

"Do you feel okay, Cupcake?"

I nodded.

"Your face is a mess, but I'm liking the wet t-shirt." He said as he reached over and pulled at my neckline and took a peek inside.

I slapped his hand away.

He laughed and started the engine.

"Are you hungry? I'll call an order in at Pino's and we can eat at your apartment."

"Sounds great to me."

As Joe walked into Pino's to pick up our order, I flipped down the visor mirror to assess the damage. Yikes! My eyes were still red and puffy and my hair had begun to dry into a ball of frizz. I was applying make-up when my phone buzzed.

I looked at the number. It was Ranger!

"Yo," I answered.

"Yo, yourself," he said "I only have a few minutes before I have to go off- line again."

"So, what's up?" I asked trying to sound innocent.

"Physically destroying my men got boring for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You switching to mental torment instead?"

"Tank's really mad at me, huh?"

"The guys say he's been really pissed since talking to you this morning, but he won't tell anyone what happened between you two."

At that moment, Joe opened the door and handed me the bags of food.

"Who's with you?" Ranger asked.

"Joe."

Joe looked at me with eyebrows raised and motioned toward the phone. "Ranger." I mouthed.

I could feel the force of Ranger's thoughts through the phone as I watched Joe's face tighten in anger. My heart started pounding.

Joe made hand motions telling me to hang up the call. I stuck my tongue out at him. I was treading on thin ice with Ranger and his men. I didn't want to screw things up further.

"So, anyway," I said into my cell, "what should I do?"

"You should fix it."

Just then, Joe grabbed the phone and slammed it shut, hanging up on Ranger.

"Hey!" I said, "You can't do that!"

"I just did!" Joe snarled back. "The least you can do is to not talk to him while you're with me!"

"He's my boss!" I explained. And he hates to be hung up on. "We were talking about work and I can't reach him just any old time because he's out of town and usually unavailable for calls." I tried dialing Ranger back to apologize but there was no answer. Damn!

We drove the rest of the way in silence. We pulled into the lot and Joe marched ahead of me into my apartment. We sat at the table and ate the meatball subs, avoiding eye contact. I decided to try to lighten the mood.

"Do you want to hear about the car auction?"

Joe just looked at me.

I decided to come clean, because it was a funny story right? I confessed to him all about the purple Camaro, finishing up with the fact that it would be ready for pick-up between eight and nine tonight.

Joe didn't laugh but he did relax a little bit. He looked at his watch.

"It's almost six o'clock now." He said, "I'm sorry Cupcake, but I have some leads to run down on the floater we found last night. You'll have to get someone else to take you to get your car."

He stood up and put on his jacket. "I don't know what you were thinking. You know better than to take your car to DiMato's. You should have called me. I know a guy."

I walked him to the door and he tilted my chin up and kissed me softly on the lips. "Bob misses you. Maybe you can come over tomorrow night?"

I nodded, "Maybe."

After Joe left, I began racking my brains about who I could call to give me a ride to DiMatos. I couldn't ask my parents. I would never hear the end of it. All good Italian children were taught at a young age to stay away from mob businesses unless you're buying pizza or pastry. You never know what you might overhear or see or who might overhear or see you. The Italian catch phrase for this awareness is…_the walls have ears_. As in …you should always stay away from places where _the walls have ears_.

I wasn't going to call Lula. She'd had enough today.

Rex was running on his wheel, twitching his whiskers at me. I dropped a couple of raisins and a piece of bread left over from the meatball sub into his dish. He dashed over and stuffed them into his cheeks. Then he ran into his soup can and buried himself in the shavings.

I called Mary Lou. "Steph, I wish I could but I'm president of the PTA and we're having a big dinner and fundraiser for the library tonight."

I tried Connie. "Sorry girl, but I have dinner plans tonight."

"Oh," I said, disappointed.

All of my neighbors were elderly and afraid to drive at night. I was running out of options. Even Vinnie turned me down.

The clock read 7:00 p.m., time was running out. It slowly dawned on me. I was going to have to call Tank!


	6. Chapter 6

I took a moment to prepare myself to phone Tank. I liked Tank and I was uncomfortable with him disliking me. He was Ranger's second in command. I didn't know all the particulars of their relationship, but Ranger trusted him implicitly.

Tank never says much, but I knew that he was extremely intelligent. And, he was obviously upset with me. Vinnie had joked about it and then Ranger went out of his way to call me and tell me to fix things.

What could he be so mad at me for? Slipping off the radar was something I'd done before. No surprises there. Sure they get annoyed by it, but no one's ever held a grudge before. I know I skipped work today, but again, this was nothing new. As long as I worked around twenty hours a week running background checks or helping with other Rangeman operations, I was good. It had to be the lying. I know that I flat-out lied to him about my location, but was that bad enough to make him hate me?

I worked up my nerve and dialed the number.

"Tank here."

"Hi Tank"

Silence.

"Listen, I'm sorry about what happened this morning."

I paused …Nothing.

"And I'll be in to catch up on work tomorrow." I rambled nervously. "But right now, I need a ride to pick up my car."

More Silence. I could faintly hear breathing though.

I gulped and continued, "Anyway, could you pick me up at my apartment around seven forty-five? The shop closes at nine."

There was a long pause, then, "Got it." And a dial tone.

Okay, he was a man of few words, but why did he have to be so damn intimidating?

I had thirty minutes to get ready. Tank couldn't yell at me if I looked hot, right? I planned on using all my feminine wiles. Hell, I might even bat my eyes at him. It couldn't hurt.

Twenty five minutes later, I stood at the front door of my apartment building waiting for Tank. I had showered, fixed my hair, applied make-up and dressed in a denim mini-skirt with a lacy red stretch top and red FMPs with a four-inch heel.

At exactly seven forty-five, a black SUV pulled up to my apartment building. I took a deep breath and walked over and climbed into the cab. The driver sat there with a big grin. It wasn't Tank, it was Santos. He was dressed in regular clothes, and looked just like your average well-built 'hot' guy.

"Well, well, aren't we all dressed up?"

"I thought Tank was picking me up."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Tank was busy"

I wasn't disappointed. I was relieved in a way. At the same time, another part of my brain became more worried.

"So, why aren't you in Rangeman clothes?"

"I'm off my shift. I volunteered for this duty."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm sorry that you have to spend your time off for me."

"I'm not. I wanted to talk to you. Give you some advice."

Uh-oh. So now I need advice. I looked over at Santos. "Tank's really that mad?"

"Tank's been pretty overbearing all day. And to make matters worse, he's been taking it out on the guys. It's been rough"

I didn't know what to say. I just looked down at my hands.

"Look, most of these guys don't know how to relate to women. They can secure a third world country, no sweat, but you sit them down across from a woman and their brain turns to mush."

"So, what am I supposed to do?"

"If you want to help calm things down, you have to understand where they're coming from. With these guys, everything is about respect and order. They operate in the realm of commanders and troops. You don't fit into that equation."

"And?"

"You have to show respect to earn respect. You missed your firearm training today. So, make sure you don't miss the morning run and… it would help a lot if you could _possibly_ show up at class."

"Ugh! Not at class!" It was a mixed – martial arts defense class. I did not want to be up close and personal with a bunch of sweaty, scary - looking guys.

"You know Ranger wants you there. It would make Tank's day to be able to tell Ranger that he got you to go."

When we got to DiMato's my car was parked out front. I hopped out of the SUV and walked over to take a closer look. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. Nick came out of the office and started toward me looking _dangerous_. He was wearing expensive grey slacks with a blue dress shirt and a black leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

Cat calls were coming from the open bay doors. Two guys who looked like they just stepped off the set of the Sopranos headed toward us.

"Hey Nicky," the first one laughed. "So, this is why you worked late tonight?"

Nick looked over his shoulder, "Cool it Big Al."

The second guy's whose nametag read 'Chip' looked me up and down and smiled. "Nick never works late. Actually, he _usually_ skips out of here early. Ain't that right Big Al?"

"Yeah, he even checked out the interior for you. Made sure everything was nice and clean. Never saw him care so much. You know?" Big Al added, while he and Chip punched each other laughingly behind Nick's back.

Nick was ignoring them. He didn't even look embarrassed. He was standing close to me staring down, smiling full dimples. The thoughts behind the eyes weren't well hidden. Warning bells went off in my head and black dots jumped around in front of me. His smile got bigger. Probably he thought I was overcome by his charisma.

"So, do you like your car?"

"Sure, it looks great," I said. Right now all I wanted was to jump into the Camaro and drive back to my part of Trenton, never to return. "Do you have my keys?"

Nick pulled the key ring out of his pocket and held them up for me to see. "I do, but I'm thinking that we need to take it for a test drive. Go get a few drinks, maybe."

So, this is how good girls become Mob girlfriends. Once you cross that line, there's no turning back. All it takes is one paintjob and you're in for life. Damn, I hate it when Mom is right!

Somehow, I had to brush Nick off without putting him down. "Gee, I appreciate the offer, but I have to get home early." The smile started to fade off Nick's face. Time to step it up a notch. "I have an appointment with my priest tomorrow. I'm thinking about becoming a nun."

"I wouldn't want to turn Nicky down, if I were you," Big Al advised me.

Chip added, "That would _not_ be good. It's just drinks, he didn't ask you to marry him."

Probably, I looked like a goldfish gasping for air. I saw the three of them simultaneously looking over my head to something behind me. Just then, I felt a warm hand on my elbow.

"What's up?" Santos asked.

Chip and Big Al looked at Santos like he had two heads. Nick looked down at me with a blank expression. To defuse the situation I quickly said, "They were just telling me about the car. Nick here was just about to give me the keys."

I held out my hand and Nick slowly dropped the keys onto my open palm, his eyes never leaving mine. Lester pulled me away from the group and around to the driver's side and opened the door. Once I was inside, he leaned in and said quietly, "I'm following you back. You're going straight to Rangeman and checking in with Tank."

Tonight, I was definitely going to pray for protection and to ask God not to hold me accountable for that Nun part.


	7. Chapter 7

I pulled into an open parking space in the garage at Rangeman and Santos pulled in behind me. Hector and another man were waiting for us. Hector was one of Ranger's "electronic specialists". He was carrying his black tote bag full of goodies and was poised to bring my Camaro into the space age. Santos said something to them in Spanish and then turned to me. "Tank is waiting for you in the office. I called ahead and alerted him."

"Gee, Thanks," I said complete with sarcasm. "You wouldn't wanna go with me for moral support?"

"Not on your life," he grinned as he spoke. "If things get ugly, just remember my advice about defense class."

I grimaced at him. Hector and his partner were standing watching us. I looked at Hector and he nodded at me. "I _know_ they're here to wire my car. Why don't they go ahead? I'd like to watch."

Santos chuckled, "Nice try, but the object is to _not _let you know where the tracking devices are. For some strange reason, people around here might be worried that you'd try to remove them."

I opened my mouth in fake indignation, "I _cannot_ believe….,"

"Quit stalling and get upstairs," he interrupted.

I walked into the office where Tank sat behind the desk working on some paperwork. Without looking up, he gruffly told me to "take a seat." I sat down with my handbag in my lap, feeling somewhat bolstered by the slight barrier it put between me and the brooding hulk across the desk.

He continued to ignore me. After a few moments, I was starting to get agitated. He was deliberately trying to intimidate me! I squirmed around in my seat and began tapping my foot on the floor. After a few more moments of no response, I added finger drumming on the arm of my chair. Without raising his head, he looked at me from under hooded eyebrows. "Why are you hanging around Nick Palesano?"

"I'm not hanging around him. I had my car painted at his shop."

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his bulging arms over his massive chest. "Let me get this straight. You want your car painted _black,_…and the best place you come up with … is DiMato's?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "The price was right."

"As opposed to _free_…courtesy of Rangeman."

"I wanted to handle it myself."

He bit his lip and closed his eyes as if he was trying to remain calm. "When Ranger leaves, it is my job to keep things running smoothly. That includes keeping you safe."

"I'm a little old for a babysitter."

"We don't _babysit_. We provide security and protection. You can call it whatever you want, but the fact remains that you seem to need more of it than most people.

I knew he was right. Probably, I shouldn't get defensive, but some things I have no control over. "Look, no one is out to get me right now," I said with my chin tilted up in defiance. "If I need your help, I promise to ask for it."

He put his elbows on the desk and buried his face in his hands with a groan. I felt bad. I didn't want to make the guy miserable. "Tank, please don't worry about me. I'll be in to work tomorrow and I'll at the run first thing in the morning." I mentally stuck my tongue out at Santos. No self-defense class for me.

"Stay away from Palesano, okay?"

"Okay. So we're done here, right?"

I was being chased by purple cars. There were no drivers, just empty cars chasing behind me as I ran down streets and across parking lots. I had to get away from them. Somehow, I knew they were trying to kill me. I ran up to several buildings, but every door I tried was locked. I ran around a corner and straight into a huge line of purple cars, side by side, rolling toward me…..They were mad that I had painted my Camaro black. That I had disfigured one of their own. I jumped up with a start and realized that I had been dreaming. The scream died on my lips as I tried to get control over my breathing. All of a sudden, I noticed the faint sunlight through the curtain. In a panic, I rolled over and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It read 5:55 in bold numbers. Oh Crap! Tank!

What the heck had happened to my alarm? I know I checked it before going to bed. I was certain that I had set it correctly. Every alarm clock I had owned had done this to me time and time again. I hate to admit it, but if Buick made an alarm clock, I'd be first in line to buy one.

I jumped out of bed and grabbed the sweats that I had put out the night before. I dressed myself as I ran to the front door. With my keys and a ponytail holder in my mouth I ran carrying my shoes to the elevator. I pulled on socks and shoes while the elevator carried me to the first floor. I shoved my hair through the ponytail holder as I ran out the front door.

I looked up and down the street. No one was there. Normally Ranger or Tank would meet me at the front of the building at five-thirty and run with me the quarter mile to the track. If I was late, Ranger would come and wake me up. Today, I was on my own. I guess Tank got tired of waiting.

I sprinted the quarter mile distance and thankfully found the guys still running. There were about seven Rangeman employees scattered around the track. They usually ran five miles or more. I was happy with two. Okay, I was happy with anything under two.

Santos was running next to Tank. I waited for them to pass by and then fell in next to them.

"Hey Tank, Santos," I said. "Sorry I'm late."

Santos looked over at me with raised eyebrows and a questioning look. Tank didn't acknowledge me. Their pace was faster than I could maintain. I slowly fell back. After a few laps, someone blew a whistle and all the Rangeman guys changed direction. Now they were coming toward me. Cal was the first one I saw. His big bald head was sweating so bad that the snake tattooed on his forehead looked like it was crying. I smiled at him, but he passed me without a word. Hal was next and he looked at his feet when he passed. None of the guys so much as looked at me. After a while, I saw Tank and Santos coming toward me. Looking at Tank, I bit my lip and blurted, "I'll come to class today to make it up to you."

Tank stopped running and looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Did you just say you'd come to class?"

"Yes, I'll be there."

Tank looked amazed. Slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. Santos grinned at me and said, "Wear black sweat pants, a black t-shirt, and no shoes."

"Two o-clock," Tank said his face serious again. "Come _early_, so Santos can go over the basics before we begin."

"Aye – aye, sir," I saluted him as they took off again.

After a few more laps, I headed home. I had no time for a shower if I was going to catch Mandy Lenotti at work. I ran up the stairs and into my apartment. I stopped cold as I walked through the door. Someone had trashed the place! I was only gone thirty minutes and yet my apartment was ransacked. Drawers had been opened and emptied in piles on the floor. Cabinet doors hung open. My handbag had been rifled through. My cash was gone, but nothing else appeared to be missing. I immediately ran to the kitchen to check on Rex. I was filled with relief when I saw him staring at me with whiskers twitching. His soup can was upside down and his wheel knocked over. It looked as though someone had picked up his cage and shaken it. I was just glad that they had not hurt him. I snuck over to the cookie jar and took out my gun. A thorough search showed that the intruder had come through the fire escape and was now gone.

I was used to crazy people breaking into my apartment, but I didn't have time to deal with the mess right now. I changed shirts and stuffed the spilled items back into my handbag. I ran down the steps to my car.

I opened the car door and my mouth dropped open in astonishment. My seats had been slashed. The inside door panels had been popped off. My radio was missing. Now I was really hot! I had been looking forward to driving the car in daylight. Whoever did this was going to pay! Right at this moment, I couldn't care less about bringing Mandy Lenotti in, but I needed a doughnut, bad.

After stopping by the bank for cash, I got to Tasty Pastry at just past seven. The woman that I spoke to yesterday was there helping another customer. When she was done she turned to me and wrinkled her nose. "Mandy just left."

I shrugged. "I need a half a dozen Boston Creams."

"About those hot checks," She began as she filled the bag. "Wasn't Mandy's fault. Someone took money out of her account. Most likely that sleazy ex-husband of hers."

"I just want the doughnuts," I quipped, trying not to sound desperate.

By the time I got back to my apartment, the sugar endorphins had kicked in and I was able to think clearly again. I straightened things up and took a shower. I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and used the blow dryer to tame my curls. I fixed Rex's cage and gave him fresh water and part of a Boston Cream. Probably he could use some sugar too after his ordeal. I could swear he smiled before he grabbed the doughnut and stuffed it into his cheek. He twitched his whiskers at me one last time and disappeared into the back of his soup can.

In order to fix my car, I needed money. Time to bring in some skips. I jumped in my car and headed toward Mandy's house hoping to catch her before she left to clean houses.

I pulled up to the curb, hopped out and walked to the front door. Mandy answered on the first knock. She was short and pleasantly plump. Her straight brown hair was clipped short and her kind green eyes looked questioningly at me behind eyeglasses that had been taped together across the bridge of her nose. She reminded me of a female Albert Kloughn. All soft and sweet through and through.

"Mandy Lenotti," I began. "I am Stephanie Plum from Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. You missed your court date, and I need to bring you to the police station so that you can re-schedule."

"Oh, dear," she said. "I hope I haven't caused you any trouble. Please come in and let me fix you a cup of coffee."

"I could use a cup of coffee," I said following her inside.

The house smelled of fresh laundry and homemade cookies. Mandy sat me down at the kitchen table and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. In the center of the table she sat a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a pitcher of milk. A large orange tabby cat rubbed its head against my leg with a loud purring. The whole house was so homey and friendly. I felt myself relax as I sighed a deep sigh of contentment. I poured milk into my coffee and looked at her across the table. "I guess your kids are at school?"

"Yes, I saw them off on the school bus just now." She reached behind her to the refrigerator where she pulled a photograph out from under a magnet. She smiled as she looked at the picture and then handed it to me. Three happy children looked back at me. A pre-teen girl, with a younger brother and a baby sister.

"Francesca is thirteen, Anthony Jr. ten, and baby Sofia is six years old and in the first grade," Mandy said proudly.

"They are beautiful," I said smiling back at her. I handed her the photograph and ate a cookie. I moaned at the first bite. "What a great cookie!"

"I use a secret recipe. I always hoped to have my own bakery, but then Tony left us. We are barely scraping by. Tony doesn't pay his child support and then there were those withdrawals from my account that I didn't know about. That's why my checks bounced."

I knew Anthony Lenotti from school. He was a few years older than me. I was not a fan. And Mandy radiated sweetness and kindness. There was just something about her that I really liked. I took a sip of coffee and looked at her regretfully. "About the court date…"

"I meant to go," she said shaking her head. "But Sofia came down with a fever that day and I didn't have anyone to help me with her. Tony refused to watch her for me. He said I was stupid for bouncing the checks."

My heart went out to her. She was a struggling single mother trying her best to provide for her children. "You don't have any family members to help you out?" I asked.

"I don't have _any_ family in Trenton. Truth be told, I really don't have any close family members anywhere. My Grandfather raised me. He moved here when I married Tony. This was his house. He passed away last year and left it to me along with a few thousand dollars."

"So what happened to the money?"

Mandy hung her head. "I don't have time to go over my bank statements like I should. Sometime over the past few months, someone has been slowly withdrawing money from my account. My checkbook showed that I had money, but the checks bounced because the money wasn't there."

"Have you told the police?" I asked sympathetically.

"Yes, but I don't have any proof, so they didn't listen to me. I changed account numbers and I no longer have an ATM card. I don't like to falsely accuse anyone, but Tony has a gambling problem. If I had come into that money while we were still married, it would have been gone in a week. I think he used my ATM card to drain the account. He had access to my card when he came to visit the children. He knew the password that I always use."

"Is that what broke up your marriage then, the gambling problem?"

"No, I came home one day and found him with another woman right on my living room sofa. I said I would stay with him for the sake of the kids, but he decided to leave me for her." She said as she cast her eyes downward in shame.

I felt sorry for her and wanted her to know that I understood her feelings. "I know what you're going through," I reassured her. "I'm divorced too. I caught my husband with Joyce Barnhardt on our dining room table."

She jerked her head up and looked at me, eyes wide. "Joyce Barnhardt?"

"Yeah, you know her?"

"That's who my husband left me for!"

My mouth fell open in shock. What a skank! The thought of Joyce breaking up Mandy's family made steam come out my ears. I mean I hated her for desecrating my dining room table, but in actuality, she did me a favor as far as my husband was concerned. Secretly, I had been glad to give up slimy Dickie Orr, but mostly I was happy to leave the lifestyle of a housewife. I was not cut out for that.

"Look, as a favor from one Joyce hater to another, I can have Vinnie meet us down at the station and get you bonded back out in no time."

"That's awfully nice of you, but I just have no time today. I am already late for my housecleaning job. Is there any way we can do this on Saturday?" She asked sweetly.

Normally, I don't plan to work on weekends. Probably, I would have to pull some favors to get Vinnie out on Saturday, but after hearing Mandy's story, I wanted to help her out. I also wanted to make Joyce Barnhardt pay.


	8. Chapter 8

I stepped into the bonds office, and asked Connie if I could use her computer. She hopped up and I sank into her chair. I then asked if she had some blank envelopes and stamps.

"Yes, but what for? You look like you're on a mission."

"Exactly. I feel like donating some of my money to charity," I said as I began typing on the computer keyboard.

"Charity? What kind of donations?"

"The secret kind. Its always better to do your giving in secret, so I'm going to let someone else get the credit for it."

Connie came and curiously peered over my shoulder at the letter I was typing. 'Please accept this small donation for postage. I have inherited a large sum of money and am trying to decide which charity I want to make contributions to. Please send me information on your organization at your earliest convenience. Sincerely, Joyce Barnhardt.'

"Joyce? Why would you give Joyce any credit for doing something good?"

"Oh, I don't know. You know how these charities are… always looking for money. After a while of trying to milk it out of you, they give up and sell your contact information to all buyers."

Connie snorted, "Oh, you're good. Diabolical!"

"In about a month, she'll be very popular with the postal service," I said while I typed Joyce's address at the top of the letter. "Now, if only I had her phone numbers, just in case they need a different way to reach her."

Connie opened a locked drawer, pulled out a file and put it on her desk. "Gee, it seems I left an employee file out by accident." She walked to the coffee maker. "And now I'm so busy making coffee that I'm oblivious to the rest of the office."

I copied the important information and returned the file to its previous spot. As the letters were coming out of the printer, Connie brought me a cup of coffee. "Oh my, did I leave this out? I don't know where my brain has been lately." She put the file away, then together, we addressed and stamped about thirty envelopes, putting a dollar in each one. Money well spent.

Next, I placed some free want ads using Joyce's phone numbers. In the farm section, she was selling a goat, some chickens, and a Brahman bull at below market value. Nothing that Joyce would be unfamiliar with anyway, I reasoned. In the alternative living rag, she offered a trained python, a trained pit bull, and stripper's apparel.

"She's gonna be busy fielding phone calls for a few days," Connie snickered.

"I'm hoping she's too busy to screw around with the next married guy she meets."

Connie grunted, "Wishful thinking."

Just then, Lula burst in the front door fuming. "I'm going to kill that damn Pritchett! He spray painted my car."

"He did what?" I asked.

"He messed with the wrong black diva, that's what. He painted 'fat ho' all over my car," She ranted. "I'm _not_ fat, I'm full - figured. And I'm not a 'ho'! At least not any more."

"How do you know it was Pritchett?"

"Because he put 'Control your Anger' and a big smiley face across the back window!"

A lightbulb went off in my head. "I bet he was the one who trashed my car AND my apartment! Let's go get that jerk!"

"I want my gun back too. He's lucky that I can't shoot his ass!"

Connie was at the front window, looking out at Lula's car. "Uh, Lula? Your car is _not_ spray painted."

"Not anymore. I took it by DiMatos and they buffed it out for me."

"DiMato's?" Connie furrowed her eyebrows. "You should stay away from there. It's a mob joint."

"Stephanie and I went there yesterday and I decided to go back to take a closer look at that Nick Palesano." She looked at me. "He is smokin' hot girl, and he's got it bad for you. Must have asked me a million questions."

My heart skipped a few beats. "Please tell me that you did not give him any information!"

She looked hurt. "Come on girl, I got your back. He wanted to know about your boyfriend. So, I let him think that you didn't have a steady boyfriend. I thought I'd leave the door open in case you wanted to take a look around. Get a new bit of scenery, if you know what I mean."

Connie and I looked at her dumbfounded. "I don't think Stephanie can handle any more testosterone than she already has. And DiMatos? What were you thinking? She certainly doesn't need any mafia types chasing her."

Lula pouted, "Hell, I could use some testosterone. He'd be welcome at my place anytime. Don't know why you Italians worry about the mafia so much either. Not like you could be a made-_wo_man, right? Right?"

Suddenly, I didn't want to be left alone. "Come on, Lula. I need to mail some letters."

A little while later, Lula and I were huffing up the stairs to Pritchett's apartment.

As we knocked, the door across the hall cracked opened and a small gray haired man peeked out. "He's not th-there," the old man stuttered. "He left with his b-b-bags packed late l-last night."

"You know where he was going?" Lula asked.

The man looked her up and down, taking in the skin tight leopard print skirt and lime green tank top. With eyes wide, he stammered, "N-Nope, can't s-s-say he told me."

I handed the man my card, "Could you call me the second that you see him return?"

The neighbor looked my card over and pursed his lips. He looked back at me. "You c-can catch him on S-Saturday if you can wait that l-long. His kid plays baseball at the Westfield ball park S-S-Saturday mornings, and Pritchett _n-__**never**_ misses a game."

Lula took me back to the office to pick up my car. On the way there, she asked, "Did you see Tank this morning?"

"Yes, during my run."

"Did he ask about me?"

I sighed. "He isn't talking to me, Lula. I think he's mad at me too." I looked over at her. "Why don't you call him?"

"Uh-uh. You should have seen the look he gave me. I'm gonna wait for him to call me first." I thought she might be in for a long wait.

I headed home to get ready for work at Rangeman. I parked in my apartment parking lot and looked up at the fire escape. "Who's afraid of the big, bad wolf...?" I sang as I approached the building. Mrs. Bestler was in the elevator. "Second floor, fine lady's wear and handsome Italian men," She said in her singsong voice. Italian men? Probably Morelli, I thought. Still, it made me a little nervous.

I unlocked my door with my key in one hand and a stun gun in the other. I slowly creeped inside and checked each room. Whew! All clear. There was a note on the refrigerator door from Morelli. 'Sorry I missed you cupcake. See you tonight.' I breathed a sigh of relief.

My answering machine light was blinking so I hit the play button. My relief faded away quickly as the message played. "Hey, its Nick. I came by your place, but you didn't answer the door. Just so you know, I don't give up easily. You still owe me a date, and I am really looking forward to seeing you again."

I quickly changed into my Rangeman uniform. I couldn't get to work fast enough.

The control room went silent when I walked in. This usually happened when Ranger entered the room, but not me. All eyes were on me as I walked to my cubicle. I smiled and gave everyone a little finger wave and most of the guys quickly looked away. Tank, however, locked eyes with me. He held up his hand with two fingers raised in a 'V' for victory sign.

"I know, two o'clock, I got it," I assured him.

My inbox was stuffed with search requests. I ranked them by order of priority / importance and began typing. I got through the most urgent ones when my stomach started growling. I looked at the time…12:30. Just enough time to eat and get ready for class. I was going to make sure that I was early.

I wandered into the kitchen and grabbed some food. Some of the Rangeman guys were already seated and avoiding eye contact with me. I decided to take my turkey club and fruit salad upstairs to Ranger's apartment. He gave me permission some time ago to use his penthouse as my own personal dressing room. I used my key fob to unlock the door and threw my keys and handbag on the credenza in the entryway. Ranger's apartment was tastefully decorated in earth tones. The kitchen counters were granite. I ate my food standing over the kitchen sink just like at home and then went into the bathroom to change. I breathed in the soft smell of Ranger's Bulgari scent and suddenly I got a deep pain in the pit of my stomach. It was longing. I missed Ranger.

I heard my cell phone ringing. I ran to the foyer and fished it out of my purse. It was Santos. "We have a lot to go over. Come down to the first floor by the guard's desk."

A few minutes later, I got off the elevator and Santos was waiting for me wearing a black t-shirt tucked into black martial arts pants. Around his waist was a black belt with three black bars on the ends. He unlocked a door in the short hallway and flipped on the light. There was a small alcove with shelves containing martial arts gear. On the other side of the alcove was an open doorway. Santos pulled off his shoes and put them in a cubby. He instructed me to do the same. I then followed him through the open doorway into a huge room with a slightly padded floor. All of the walls were covered with ceiling to floor mirrors. There were heavy bags hanging in two corners.

Santos handed me a white belt. "We practice Mixed Martial Arts using the standard rank system. Not only will you learn self-defense, but also honor, integrity, and respect for those in authority." At this, my eyes rolled back so far that my optic nerve must have stretched a good two inches. Santos tried to hide his grin while he showed me how to loop my belt around my body twice and tie it properly in front. "The person with the highest rank is the instructor. He always enters last. He will wait by the door until all the students _**jump**_ to their feet and stand at attention facing him."

"Tell me the truth," I said sarcastically. "Am I being asked to take this class so I can learn self-defense or so I might do better at 'following orders'?" I made the quotation mark sign in the air for the last two words.

"You know, you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but no one can call you a dummy."

"Pain in the …..?"

He cut me off. "Let's see where was I? Oh yeah, the instructor will call for everyone to line-up and we do that by rank. The low rank, that's you, will be in the back of the class. At the end of class the low rank….," Santos pointed at me. "holds the door while everyone else leaves."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

He ignored me and continued, "If a higher rank speaks to you, you must answer with Sir, yes Sir. Low ranks cannot speak until acknowledged."

"That's it! I'm all done here," I said as I started to untie my white belt.

Santos grabbed my wrists. "Come on, it won't be that bad after a class or two. You promised Tank," he pleaded with his eyes. "I think he might have already bragged about it to Ranger. Don't let him down."

Ranger. Just hearing his name made me feel weak at the knees. What was wrong with me? I tried to think about how good Morelli looks wearing jeans and nothing else. "So what rank is Ranger?"

"The highest rank of course. He has a fourth degree in several different martial arts. Tank has several black belts also and is the second highest rank. I have a third degree in Taekwondo and am working on a black belt in a few other styles. Ranger arranges our belt testing through various martial arts organizations." Then he added, "Jean Ellen is working on her first black belt."

Jean Ellen! I fumed. Is there anything that she can't do? "Will she be here?" I demanded, sounding a little more harsh than I expected.

This got a big grin from Santos. "No, you're the only girl that has ever been allowed in the Rangeman classroom. Sometimes, though, Ranger has us go work out where Jean Ellen takes her classes."

My upper lip curled. "How long will it take for me to get my black belt?"

"That depends on how hard you work at it."

I thought about that for a moment. If I continued to work as a bounty hunter, it might benefit me to learn some self defense. At the very least, I liked knowing that I was the first girl to be allowed in this room. I wished I could see Jean Ellen's face when she found out. I looked determinedly at Santos. "Tell me what I need to know."

I learned that on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday the classes were for black belts only. Today was Wednesday, but I was being offered a special pass to attend on any day. Classes for 'colored belts' or non-black belts were slower-paced and given on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Credit was given for the number of classes attended, and the number of goals met. A stripe would be added to my belt for each of these. Once I had the requisite number of stripes, I could test for the next belt.

Slowly, guys started filling the room. Bobby, Junior, Hal and Cal had black belts. Some of the guys, I didn't know. All of them seem surprised to see me there. We began stretching exercises, then Santos whispered, "Tank's here." He jumped up and clapped twice and everyone around me jumped to attention. I slowly got to my feet. I wasn't jumping for anybody. Tank entered the room and the class began. The guys showed me some pressure-point control tactics and basic martial arts moves. Then I watched as they sparred and practiced more advanced stuff. I had to admit that it was somewhat interesting. At the end of the hour, Tank made us line up again and dismissed us. Everyone congregated around the alcove and looked at me expectantly. I shrugged my shoulders and let them wait. Finally, Lester took me by the elbow and led me to the front of the pack, depositing me in front of the closed door. I rolled my eyes, opened the door, and stood with a hand on my hip in defiance as they filed out one by one.


End file.
